


A Hunter's Bow

by ADragonAppears



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Kingdoms and Wars, And just generally fighting, Background Sabriel, Cas hates Dean's guts, Castiel and Lucifer (Supernatural) are Siblings, Dean is honestly a hot mess, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Good Older Sibling Lucifer (Supernatural), Gotta love battles, He thinks no one can tell, Lucifer (Supernatural) is Forgiven, Lucifer (Supernatural) is a Little Shit, Lucifer (Supernatural) is king, M/M, One-Sided Attraction from Hannah, There are some battles so that's fun, They can, We all need some angst in a fic, both emotional and physical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-27 03:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17758727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADragonAppears/pseuds/ADragonAppears
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are some of the most infamous bounty hunters out there. They are paid to take care of whatever creatures (zombie dragons, ghost dragons, demon dragons, etc.) other dragons have problems with. Recently the kingdom of the hell dragons and the kingdom of the angel dragons have been at war, with all innocent drakes caught in the middle. The war has made them a great profit, killing and capturing for both sides, and it continues to do so when they get their most dangerous mission yet: capture the head general of the angel dragons, Castiel. Little do they know that under it all, there's an even bigger conspiracy stirring.





	1. Prologue

Crowley stood and watched Sam’s little smirk of disbelief appear on his face.

“You can’t be serious,” he snorted “You want US to not only break into the kingdom of angels, but you also want us to bring you one of the highest-ranking officials there.” Crowley’s eyes moved from Sam to find Dean pacing the side of the room.

“In all honesty, I wouldn’t have called you here if I didn’t think you could do it. You two have a reputation to uphold, do you not? You’re the most lethal hunters out there! If anyone can do it, it would be you. Plus, if you don’t, I know where that little dragon you treat like a sister is kept. Might I mention that you would be fairly compensated for your efforts as well?” Crowley stated in his sing-song way. Sam turned to face Dean, obviously angry about the arrangement. 

“Dean, care to step in here?” Sam gritted his teeth, obviously trying not to lose whatever calm he had left.

Dean’s pacing slowed to a stop. His head turned to face Sam, ignoring the presence of the King of Hell. “We’ve pulled crazier stunts and we can’t afford to lose Charlie.” He seemed sad when he said this. Crowley had only seen him like this when something or someone he loved was pinned against him. To be fair he had pinned many dragons they loved against them before, so he couldn’t blame him.  
Dean straightened up and the fire returned to his eyes. The moment of weakness was gone. His head snapped towards Crowley. “We do this, you don’t go near Charlie ever, you got it?”

“Yeah, yeah I- “

“And we get paid double.” Dean hissed. “That sounds fair doesn’t it Sammy?” Sam walked up next to him.

“Sounds fair to me Dean.” Sam smiled a predatory grin.

Crowley sighed. “Well fine. But this is only because of how well you’ve delivered before. You break your promise, I come for the sister. Are. We. Clear?” Crowley gritted out.

“As mud.” Dean muttered.

Crowley put a smug look on his face. “I suppose you will be needing the proper tools then.” He turned around, not before witnessing the look of confusion on Sam’s face. “Don’t look so shocked Moose. You should know that only angel weapons can harm angels.” Crowley walked over to a closet and pulled open the doors. Inside was an array of angel blades as well as arrows and chains.

Sam looked it over. “So, we can only kill him with these?” He picked one up and spun it around. “It’s workable. Pretty well balanced, not gonna lie.”

“Well of course. It’s made by the best for the best,” He said as he took it from Sam. “Be careful with them Moose. They can kill anything.” He turned back to face Dean who was loading his crossbow with and arrow and pocketing the rest of them.

“So, angel weapons can kill anything you say?” Dean said with a hint of malice in his voice.

“Well, yeah. I guess so.”

“Great.” Dean said as he turned and aimed his loaded crossbow at Crowley. “So, it should kill you no problem.” Dean smirked.

Crowley sighed, “I’m so done with you Winchesters and your backstabbing. I will let you know that I still plan on paying you for getting the job done. Oh, and Dean, don’t pretend like you don’t want to go on this mission. I’ve seen your bloodlust for myself.” And with that, he snapped his talons and the Winchesters disappeared from his office.

...

Dean looked around, disoriented. He noticed the trees first, then the odd lighting. They were in the forest instead of the office of the King of Hell. He dropped his crossbow as it was now aimed at a tree. He turned to find Sammy on his right, “Son of a bitch!” he yelled. “I hate that Crowley. Sure, he pays us well, but there’s always a catch with him. No one is safe!”

Sam was still busy orienting himself while Dean spoke. As soon as he was finished he spoke, “Look, let’s just get back to the bunker and figure out some sort of plan.” Dean was about to refuse but Sam cut him off. “Don’t you say that we just go in crossbows blazing. This is the kingdom of the angel dragons we’re talking about. Their king has almost won the war against the kingdom of the hell dragons! These are some of the most powerful dragons on the planet, we need a foolproof plan. And several backup ones for that matter!” This shut Dean up.

Dean sighed and picked up the bag of weapons Crowley had sent with them. “Fine. Let’s get back to the bunker and figure out these so-called plans of yours.” He took a moment to check his compass and then took off walking, Sammy trailing behind him.

...

Sam opened the door of the bunker and walked inside. Carefully, he walked down the steep steps into the main room where he set the mission file on the table. He saw a blur of red scales rushing towards him. “Sam! You’re back! How did it go? Let me guess, another awesome mission filled with adventure? What do I need to start researching? How can I help?”

Sam put up his claws to steady her. “Well actually- “

“Dean! You’re back too! Sam was just telling me about the mission! I can get to research right away.” She bounced. “Man working for the best bounty hunters on the continent has its perks. You guys see all the action, and I get to meet pretty dragons.” She seemed to be trying to regain her badass-ness and whatever suave manner she originally had.

Dean dropped the duffel bag on the ground. “Great to see you Charlie.” He said as he wrapped her in a hug. He shot Sam a look that gave off a ‘tell her and it’ll be the last thing you do’ kind of vibe. Honestly to Sam it looked a little murderous, but what stern look from Dean didn’t?

Sam cleared his throat. “We have a lot to discuss and a ton of research to do now.” Dean nodded and walked over to the fridge where he pulled out three beers. He then proceeded to toss one to both Charlie and Sam.

“Alright, where should we start?” Dean questioned.

“Hold up now, you haven’t even told me what your mission is yet. Or who you got it from for that matter. I demand to know. As a dragon living in this bunker, I have a right to know.” Charlie said with a look of indignation.

Sam looked at Dean. They both decided in that look that they could tell her. After all, what’s one more set of claws? Dean decided to speak first.  
“So, the new mission, it came from Crowley- “

“The King of the Hell Dragons?! Damn, he must really like you guys after all of these assignments.”

Dean gave her a look. “As I was saying, the mission came from Crowley. As you know, the angel dragons have been winning the war and have just succeeded in driving the hell dragons back into their territory. Pretty big deal in war standards I’d say.”

Sam picked up. “And he wants us to capture, not kill,” he gave Dean a look, “a high ranking official for him. I don’t know if it’s to get information or just to have a bargaining chip, but in this job, we don’t ask those questions. We just get the job done. So before you ask, no, I don’t know why.”

“He gave us this bag of angelic weapons ‘just in case we run into a situation’ as well.” Dean said, motioning to the duffel bag. “I guess we are only supposed to use them if necessary, as we don’t want to cause a fuss and draw attention to ourselves.”

For the first time in a while, Charlie was rendered speechless, then she spoke up. “I guess we better get to work, bitches.” She said in her usual Charlie manner. She grabbed a bottle opener, used it, and then tossed it to Dean.

Dean motioned to the library. “Anything on angels, grab it.”

...

“So get this,” Sam said, “The angel kingdom is holding a party of sorts, gala actually. It says that it’s in celebration of pushing the hell dragons back into their territory.”

“Great,” Dean grunted, “a party for us to crash. I like it.” He smirked.

“Dean, what did I say before? We can’t go in crossbows blazing. There’s only two of us and a kingdom full of the most powerful dragons on the planet. It’s suicide, plus Crowley needs the target alive.” Sam reasoned.

“Right. Forgot about that.” He snorted.

“I could tag along.” Charlie said. “I mean, maybe I’ll find a cute angel dragon there. I still haven’t forgiven you guys for stopping me from banging a fairy dragon. You owe me this.”

Dean cut her off, “No it’s too dangerous.”

“We need you here in case anything goes wrong.” Sam reasoned.

Charlie sighed and slouched into her chair. “Fine, I’ll stay here. But you have to take me on a mission one day, ok?”

Dean nodded, opening the case file. He made a face, almost like he was impressed.

“What is it?” Sam asked in a joking manner.

“Nothing.”

“Sure it’s not. Really, what is it?”

“Honestly, he doesn’t look half bad. For a battle-scarred general I thought he’d look more… Well, he looks better than what I thought. Let’s just say that.” He took out the photo and handed it to Sam.  
The photo was black and white, but it didn’t take away from his figure at all. Sure, he was a little scruffy looking, but overall, he seemed to be in pretty good shape. This could be either a good or bad thing. It could mean that he either hasn’t seen a real battle and he was just a strategist, or he was an excellent fighter and wouldn’t let someone close enough to lay a claw on him. Either way, they would have to prepare for the worst.

“We need to assume he is one of their best fighters in order to get close to him. We can’t afford to take any unnecessary risks.”

“There, we are in agreement. Now come on, we need a plan, and in your words, ‘several backup ones.’”

“We’ve got work to do.”


	2. Observe and Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I just wanted to clarify a few things before you read this chapter. First things first, drakons are male dragons and drakanias are females. Also, since drakes don't have wings and therefore can't fly, they drive carts pulled by dragon-horse creatures (they can't fit in cars). In this case, the Impala is one of those creatures. I think they are called qilins. Also, the dragons have developed technology like us, they just don't do automobiles.

            Castiel glanced upwards at the decorative banner some servants were hanging up. “I don’t know about all of this. In my opinion, we should be focusing on winning the war completely instead of celebrating one little victory.”

            Lucifer put his arm around his brother and motioned up to the decorations. “We’ve basically won the war because of _your_ efforts. You need to take the time to relax and enjoy our major, not little, victory. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a cute dragon at the party.”

            “Now you’re starting to sound like Balthazar.”

            Castiel gave him a look and Lucifer put up his claws jokingly. “Alright, alright, I get it. This past year has been hard on us all, just try and enjoy the evening instead of worrying about our next move, okay? That’s an order from your king.”

            He sighed. “Fine, I’ll try and relax.”

            “That’s my brother. I’ll-“

            “Only for tonight though.”

            Lucifer grumbled something Castiel couldn’t hear. “Alright deal. Party tomorrow, victory the next day.”

            Castiel nodded.

            Lucifer patted him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

            In that moment, Gabriel chose to appear. He walked their way, wings bouncing with every step. “Ah, if it isn’t my two favorite brothers. Plotting our victory, are we?” He wrapped Castiel in a headlock and ruffled the fur on his head.

            “Gabriel, stop. Your upsetting our little brother.” Lucifer said as he looked on, not intervening.

            Castiel twisted out of his headlock and backed away a good distance. Gabriel stayed where he was, but there was a mischievous glint in his eye that said he wasn’t done.

            Lucifer took this as an opportunity to speak, “Gabriel, I think you might be the perfect dragon for teaching Cassie here how to loosen up a bit and have fun for a night, don’t you?”

            “I think I would be a wonderful teacher!” Gabriel smiled.

            Castiel shot Lucifer a murderous look. “I don’t have time for this, I need to get back to planning.” He grunted.

            “Do with him what you will.” Lucifer murmured to Gabriel. He turned and walked back into the castle.

            Gabriel turned to Castiel with the biggest grin on his face. Castiel took the slight distraction to quickly turn around and take off from the ground. He tried flying away from him, but Gabriel was a faster flyer and caught up to him quickly. He tackled Castiel to the ground.

            “We are going to have fun and you are going to learn to loosen up, alright?”

            Castiel nodded.

            “Good. Now I say we start with one of my favorite activities, food and tv.”

            “I don’t really think that-“

            “It’s either this or I can get us to a club full of girls.”

            This shut Castiel up. “Fine.”

            “Great! Now you get snacks, and I’ll set up some movies back at the castle. Meet me in my room in 15 minutes.” And with that, he took off, flying towards the castle.

            Castiel took a moment to get his bearings before setting off towards the market.

 

...

 

            After pushing through crowds of drakes and other angel dragons, Castiel finally reached the corner stall that sold snacks and junk food. He selected a few bags of chips and candy bars (for Gabriel) as well as the ingredients for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Castiel looked back at the counter where you were supposed to pay for your items and saw that there was a small line. He shrugged and walked towards the line, right as a drake cut him off.

Castiel grunted in annoyance but stayed quiet. It would be his turn soon. The drake paid for his pie and started on his way, not before winking at the cashier, who then proceeded to roll her eyes. Castiel took his turn to roll his eyes before picking up his items and setting them out on the counter. He was taking money out of his ankle bag when he heard the dragon speak.

            “General Castiel?”

            Castiel looked up and saw a small drake with bright red fur and scales. The blue uniform vest stood out on her like a small patch of calm surrounded by chaos. He did a double take before responding.

            “Yes?”

            “I just wanted to say thank you for winning the war for us all.” She looked genuinely happy.

            “Well it isn’t won yet, but we’re almost there,” he said.

            “Oh I know, but still, thank you.”

            “Of course.” He held out the money to her, but she proceeded to push it back to him.

            “Keep it. This one is for celebration,” she said with a smile.

            “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

            She nodded, handed him his items in a bag, and turned to a book she left on the counter. Castiel then left the store, bag in claws, started to open his wings, decided better, and walked.

 

...

 

            Castiel walked through the castle halls. There were servants everywhere, preparing the castle for tomorrow night. He really hated how they had to bring in a bunch of random drakes to help set up a party. He made his way towards Gabriel’s room, careful to stay out of the way of working dragons.

As soon as he was there, he knocked on his brother’s door. The door swung open as Gabriel announced himself. Castiel jumped back making sure not to get hit by the large slab of wood.

“Gabriel,” he said in a somewhat irritated fashion.

“In the flesh,” he responded.

“Can you please be more careful?”

“What’s the point? Life always needs the element of surprise!”

            Castiel sighed in response to this. He held up the bag full of food. “I brought this for you.”

            “Haha! Yes! Candy!” Gabriel celebrated. “Now we just need a movie and then we are all set.”

            He turned and walked back into his room. Castiel followed. Gabriel snapped his talons and a ginormous tv appeared in the room. Castiel knew the extent of Gabriel’s powers but it was still off-putting to see them in action sometimes.

            “I’m thinking a classic. Oh! I know! How about _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_?”

            Castiel raised an eye arch.

            “Oh come on! You’re gonna love it! It’s about a guy who takes a day off, plus his friend learns to loosen up, just like you will!”

            He conjured up two plush cushions for them each to lie down on to emphasize his point. “Loosen up. It will be fun.”

            Castiel gave in. “Fine. I just feel like I should be meeting Hannah to strategize. The gala would be a perfect opportunity for the demon kingdom to do something.”

            “Nothing will happen,” Gabriel reassured him, “besides, you gave me another excellent idea. You should go to the gala with Hannah. I know she’s always mooning over you. Plus, unless I haven’t heard, which is unlikely, you don’t have anyone else to go with.”

            “Hannah is a nice dragon, but you know I’m not attracted to drakanias.”

            “Yes, but every high-ranking official should have a date, friend or not. I could always find you an attractive drakon as well.”

            “I’m fine thank you.”

            Gabriel clapped his claws. “Great! Then it’s settled.”

 

...

 

            “We’re back bitches!” Charlie yelled as she and Dean came through the door to the bunker.

            Sam looked up at them. “How did it go? You didn’t get recognized, did you?”

            “Of course not. Cut me some slack Sammy, we’ve been doing this since we were kids.”

            Charlie cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt one of your ‘brotherly moments,’ but what exactly was the point of going out and not engaging the target?”

            Sam looked at Dean. “Well, with such a high ranking official, we can’t afford to take him when someone knows where he is. We assume that since the demon kingdom isn’t completely beat that he would be looking for any suspicious activity around. The gala would be the perfect time to strike. He knows that, and we know that.”

            “So, the goal of that outing was to get inside his head. I know for a fact he saw me, so when we disguise ourselves as servants at the gala and engage in some suspicious conversation and actions, he will most likely follow us to investigate.”

            “That’s when we take him out,” Sam finished for Dean.

            Charlie nodded. “It’s a good plan, quite clever. However, wasn’t the mission to capture him and not to kill him?”

            Sam got up from the table and walked over to a box beside their duffel bags. He opened it and turned to Charlie to show her the contents. Inside were a row of metal darts.

            “And…?”

            “They are made of the same material as angel blades and therefore can actually do damage.”

            “Crowley told us that these darts would knock him out. I don’t know for how long though, so we’ll have to move quickly,” Dean added, “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat my pie.” He turned and walked away to the kitchen.

            “Great! Now what should we do?” Charlie asked, turning to Sam.

            “Well I am going to get our bags and outfits ready. I can load up the cart tonight, then I’m going to get some sleep. I recommend you do the same.” Charlie looked tired and sad. “I assume you will be on standby as always?”

            She seemed to perk up at that. “Of course! I can’t leave the Winchesters hanging, can I?”

            Sam smiled. “No, I guess not.” He nodded at her then turned to walk towards the garage. He picked up the duffel bags and slung them over his shoulder. Sam then proceeded to do an awkward three-legged step before finding his rhythm. “Goodnight Charlie!” he called over his shoulder.

            “Goodnight Sam! Good luck on the hunt tomorrow!” she called back. “Oh! Before I forget, you better tell me if you find a nice angel drakania!”

            Sam smiled. “Will do!”


	3. The Gala

            The party would be tonight. Castiel sighed as he stood from his cushion on the floor. He returned the geographical history book to his shelf. Castiel walked over to the window and looked out as he thought of his brother’s words. _Party tomorrow, victory the next day._ It sounded so simple, but any time they wasted not planning was another minute the demon dragons could be using to infiltrate the kingdom.

            Outside, drakes were hurrying around making sure all the decorations were in order. If this was chaos, what must the kitchen look like?

            Castiel looked to his closet. It would probably be a good idea to find something to wear. He walked over and opened the doors. Inside were multiple suit jackets, white shirts, and ties. Hanging there also was his trench coat.

            A tuxedo would look fine. Maybe a tie as well. He glanced at his trench coat. Not fancy enough, he concluded.

            He didn’t know why dragons cared so much about what they wore. Picking outfits was just exhausting. He shrugged. To each their own.

 

...

 

Music blared from the stage. The lights were low, setting the mood. The ballroom was stuffy from the body heat of so many dragons. Servant drakes dressed in white tuxedo jackets raced across the floors, handing our hors d’oeuvres to the guests and making sure everything ran smoothly. Something smelled of perfume, probably all the drakanias wearing perfume.

            Castiel stretched his claws and moved his wrist around. He hated being in such close quarters. If there was an attack there would be no time to get everyone out. Thankfully the gala had guards posted at every door.

            He was standing at a table, waiting for Hannah to get back with drinks. Balthazar had decided to show up for the gala. He was wearing a tuxedo jacket over a white shirt that was unbuttoned too far to be considered formal. Castiel scanned the crowd. Thankfully, he was a tall dragon and could (mostly) see over the heads of the party members.

            “I see you invited your commander,” Balthazar commented, sipping his wine.

            “I did,” Castiel responded gruffly.

            “Anything going on there I should know about?”

            Castiel gave him a look.

            “Oh, don’t give me that look Cassie! I’m just messing with you.”

            “If you want to properly learn to _mess_ with someone, take lessons from Gabriel.”

            “That would-“

            “Oh! And another thing, maybe don’t fake your death next time you need an out!” Castiel growled at him. Balthazar gave him a sheepish grin in response.

            “Good to know you missed me! I’ll keep that in mind next time.” This remark earned him a glare.

            Hannah arrived just in time to spare Balthazar from a scolding. Hannah was a sweet angel dragon, sweet but deadly. She was Castiel’s second in command and one of his best strategists. Castiel was also pretty sure that she was attracted to him in some form or another. She inched closer to him as Castiel subtly inched away.

            “Cassie! Glad to see you’re loosening up for the night!” Gabriel appeared out of what seemed to be thin air. He moved and suddenly he was in between Hannah and Castiel, his three pairs of wings wrapped around the both of them. “Ah, tis a night filled with friendship, romance, life-“

            “Gabriel,” Castiel hissed, “is this really necessary?”

            “Oh of course not! Why do you think I’m doing this?” He teased.

            Castiel stepped out from under his wing and took long look at his brother. Gabriel was wearing a tuxedo jacket, quite similar to Castiel’s. His shirt was also unbuttoned, probably from another dragon. His study was quickly interrupted by the dragon in front of him.

            “Oh Cassie, stop analyzing everything for just a moment. Have fun! Isn’t this what Luci wanted?”

            Castiel gave him an incredulous look. It was how he was raised. Always evaluate your surroundings in case of an emergency, especially in a place something is bound to go wrong. All other dragons had received the same training, of course, it just didn’t seem like anyone was thinking to use them. Even the guards seemed to be joining in the festivities.

He gave one last look around the room. He stopped when he came to a tall drake figure. The drakon had moose antlers, quite unusual. He seemed to be talking to another drake servant, this one smaller (yet still quite large) and with the antlers of what seemed to be an antelope…? No, an impala. That dragon almost looked familiar. That’s what it was! The market from the other day. They were wearing white servant uniforms. Unusual… Servants were usually scrawnier, bigger drakes like that could probably get better jobs than this. That is, unless they were here for something. What if they were here to infiltrate the gala?!

Suddenly a claw waved in front of his face.

“Hellooooooo? General Castiiieel. You there? I was just talking to you.”

Castiel looked back at Gabriel, “I’m sorry Gabriel, what were you saying?”

“I was just inviting you to come meet Kali, you silly wings!”

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion when suddenly he was being dragged across the floor by his left wing. Gabriel marched in front of him, claws tightly gripped on his wing bone.

“C’mon you’re gonna like her. She’s like a goddess dragon of sorts. She’s kind of like us, in a way. Although she can do blood magic so don’t get on her bad side.”

Castiel walked in silence with Gabriel as he kept talking about her. He turned his head back a few times to try and find those two drakes. He had a bad feeling about them.

Finally, he led Castiel to a dark drakania. Kali was very beautiful, he could see why Gabriel liked her. The drakania’s wings were feathered but spiky, Castiel had never seen anything like it.

“Hello, I’m Castiel,” he stated in his gruff voice.

“Kali,” she offered.

Castiel nodded at her then looked at Gabriel. He seemed to be enjoying this. Castiel wasn’t great with other dragons. One might say his “dragon skills” were “rusty.”

 

...

 

            Dean watched as Sam looked up and over the crowd. Dean took the moment to also try and get a glimpse above the room full of dragons. At this point, their target had wandered away from whoever his date was supposed to be. It looked as though he was talking to another angel dragon and maybe his date? She was a pretty drakania. Maybe when all this was over he could come back for her. He smirked to himself.

            A tug on his tail brought him back to reality. He looked behind him and Sam was gesturing to exit the room. He followed Sam to what looked to be a closet. Once inside, he locked the door.

            Sam turned to him, “Alright, the target seems to be a little distant from the party which should make things easier. I saw him scanning the crowd, I think he knows that something is up.”

            “Alright, but how exactly do we get him away from everyone?” Dean questioned.

            Sam smirked, “I’m not sure you’re going to like the plan.”

            “Just tell me already.”

            Sam sighed. “Fine. When Charlie tagged him, I listened in on his conversation. He and the other angel dragon were talking about who they were inviting, and I heard our target say that he was only into drakons…” Sam was slowly gesturing with his claws.

            “Uh uh, nope. Not happening.”

            “Dean-“

            “Why me?”

            “Well it has been said that you are the best looking.”

            Dean considered this for a moment, “fine I’ll do it,” he said finally defeated.

            “Great! Now I have an idea, follow closely, ok?”

 

... 

 

            Castiel and Gabriel walked back to the table that held Balthazar and Hannah. They seemed to be having a lovely conversation.

            Balthazar looked to the clock on the wall and set his wine glass down. “It seems as though our king’s speech should be happening in a minute or two. I would recommend we get some more drinks.”

 

... 

 

            Dean looked back over his shoulder at Sam hiding behind the corner. Someone handed him a tray with champagne glasses on it. Dean rolled his shoulders back in his white tuxedo jacket. Show time.

 

... 

 

            As if on cue, a round of servants entered through all the doors carrying trays of champagne. They all made their way around to each table. Finally, the drake with the impala antlers made his way towards their table. He handed out champagne flutes to everyone. Castiel was the last to receive his. The drake winked at Castiel when he handed the glass to him.

            Castiel looked back at Balthazar who was raising an eye arch at him. Castiel shrugged and Balthazar sipped his champagne. Castiel mimicked him while watching the drake go. He remained in the corner of his vision.

            The song came to an end and Lucifer stepped out on stage. He was wearing a twisted crown as well as a tuxedo jacket with what seemed to be a cape. Interesting choice.

            He leaned back on his hind legs and tail and put both of his front claws up. The he spoke, “My fellow angelic drakons and drakanias,” he took a long pause, “we’ve won!” This sent up a cheer from the crowd while Castiel rolled his eyes. How many times did he have to tell him, they needed one final push for Crowley.

            He continued his speech, but as he went on, Castiel began to get light headed. The lights seemed to flare. Everyone’s words slurred together. He looked at his champagne glass. It must have been poisoned. He tried not to look panicked as he searched for the drake. There. He was turning around and going out the door. Did he glance back over his shoulder?

            Castiel, with as much grace and stealth as he could given the situation, got up and sneakily made his way towards the door that he saw the drake exit through. By now the room was spinning, but he trudged on, determined to catch him or at least find a guard. But of course, the guards had moved inward to the king and away from the doors.

            He tried to use his angelic healing powers, but they seemed to not be working. Castiel shook his head, determined to stay awake as the light was fading. He finally stumbled to the doors and pushed one open just enough for him to escape. He closed the door behind him, maybe a little too aggressively than intended.

            He turned around and there was the drake. He was smirking in what seemed to be arrogance or pride. The smirked seemed a little playful too. Castiel may not have been feeling well, but it didn’t obscure his ability to read dragons and expressions.

            Castiel walked towards him, unbalanced. “What… Did… You. Do. To… Me?” He asked through gritted teeth. The drake remained silent as Castiel crawled his way across the floor. His legs had pretty much given out. He collapsed by the time he reached the dragon.

            He tried again, “What do you want?” He raised his head as much as he could, looking up at the drake.

            There was a mischievous glint in his eye before he bent down to meet him, carefully staying above him a few inches so Castiel had to look up at him. He used his right claws to lift Castiel’s chin up so he could make eye contact. Even though his vison was fading, he could still see the piercing green of the drake’s eyes. He took one talon and dragged it along Castiel’s face, tracing his jaw. Castiel tensed up.

            “You.”

            Then something pinched on the side of his neck. He looked down to find a dart lodges between his scales. He looked up to see the other servant drake, the big one with moose antlers this time. The drake smiled. Everything went dark.

 

...

 

            Their target collapsed on the floor before Dean. He stepped back and observed the sleeping angel dragon before them. He turned to Sam, remembering that he was supposed to be angry.

            “Um, what the hell?!”

            “What do you mean?” Sam asked with a ‘trying to look innocent’ smile.

            “What took you so long? You made me drag that out for way longer than it needed to be!”

            “True. But honestly, I wanted to see what would happen,” Sam snickered.

            “What did you think was gonna happen? Did you think he was going to kiss me and say, ‘Oh! I’m love! Don’t worry I’ll come with you willingly?’”

            Sam was full on cackling now. Dean just glared at him. He waited for Sam to finish his laughing fit. He heard the room cheer through the door.

            “C’mon Sam. We don’t know how long he’ll be out for and I think the party is wrapping up. Let’s get a move on here.” Of course, as soon as he said those words, the music resumed.

            “Ok so maybe not, but if the king has stepped down that means the guards are gonna return really soon.”

            Sam caught his breath then stood up and walked over to the motionless body on the floor where Dean was waiting. He looked down at the sleeping dragon. Odd. He almost seemed peaceful, everything considered.

            “Are you gonna help me move him or what?”

            Sam sighed, “Fine.”


	4. One Day Out

Castiel woke to the sound of a groaning wood. Well, he regained consciousness and awareness of what was around him. He found that he couldn’t open his eyes or move any of his limbs. There were voices, voices he couldn’t quite make out. The wood was too loud. It was bumpy too. Were they moving? Why couldn’t he move his body?

The darkness wanted him to come back. He needed to stay awake. He needed to escape and get back to his kingdom. He must fight the sleep that was trying so hard to claim him. His body wasn’t responding to his brain. He had to move. He could feel himself twitching from trying so hard. The emptiness and darkness of unconsciousness consumed him, and he fell back into a peaceful sleep.

 

...

 

            Dean watched as the angelic dragon stirred and twitched in his sleep. He didn’t actually wake up, thankfully, but instead fell back into a heavenly state of unconsciousness. It could be disastrous if he did wake up.

Dean sat and observed him. He hadn’t seen many angel dragons in his lifetime, but this one seemed different. At the party, most of the halos had colorful feathers, usually they matched or went with the color of the fur lining their back. This one had raven-black feathers and fur, or was it hair? He didn’t really know what to call the soft material that ran down every dragon’s back.

The target also had silver scales. That was kind of rare. It wouldn’t be useful for trying to hide him. Right, trying to hide him. Dean wrinkled his snout as reality hit him.

            “We need to call Crowley, see if he can do his snappy thing to get us to Hell.” He turned his head back and looked at Sam as he said it, who was busy getting the communicator to work. Sam was holding the device up in the air, trying to get a connection.

            Slowly, Sam turned and gave Dean the bitchface of the century. “Do you not think that is what I am trying to do?”

            “To me, it seems like you’re waving a little box around in the air for no reason.”

            “I need a connection to call him!”

            “Well good job so far.”

            “ARRGH! I always have a connection! Why is it suddenly deciding to stop now?”

            “Obviously it’s because it is inconvenient for us. I mean, when does anything ever go completely right for us?” Dean questioned as he absently spun an angel blade he had picked up.

            Sam grumbled something inaudible as he kept moving around the clearing. “I got it!” he finally exclaimed.

            Crowley’s voice came over the device, “Hello boys. What seems to be the issue?”

            Sam started to speak but was interrupted by Dean, “I’ll tell you what’s wrong! We had a deal! You said you would give us all the tools to help capture him! Where on this damn planet is our transport?”

            Crowley took a moment to respond. “Well, as you said, I promised I would give you all the tools to capture your target-“

            “Thank you-“

            “However, transportation was never in our agreement. I promised you the tools to _capture_ him, not transport him.” Before Dean could respond, he added, “Now if you two lumbering piles of flannel are done complaining about working conditions,” Dean and Sam looked down at their wardrobe choice in offense, “I think I’ll take my leave and get back to, I don’t know, RULING HELL? Now goodbye,” and with that, he signed off.

            “SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yelled as he plunged the angel blade into the ground. He reached his claws up and ran them along his head in stress.

            Sam inhaled, deeply. “Alright… This just means that we have to- it just means that we have to figure out a way to transport an angel dragon, _who is missing_ , through the heavenly kingdom, through the neutral territory, all the way to the hell kingdom.”

            “Yeah, no problem, right?” Dean said sarcastically.

Same made a face in response to this. “Let’s just get going. At least we have Impala and the cart.”

Dean turned to face the sleeping dragon, “Great, now we just have to move him into the cart,” he sighed with annoyance, “I assume we are taking the creepy forest road?” Dean asked, gesturing to the path that was wide enough for two carts that split the dense forest in half.

“What do you think?” Sam quickly added, “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

 

...

 

            He could move one claw. No, two claws. He could move his arm. Then, he could move his other arm. And then, his tail. Not his wings though. He’d work on that later. Then, he heard voices. He stilled. They seemed to be talking in hushed tones, but if Castiel listened closely, he could just make out bits of what they were saying. Something about hell dragons. Oh no, the hell dragons. The events of that night came flooding back. That drake, he had poisoned the drink. How long had he been out?

            Castiel cracked one eye open. Once his eyes adjusted, his surroundings came into focus. A forest. Which forest? They couldn’t have gotten that far. It must be surrounding wooded area. Probably the Forest of Eden then.

            He was regaining feeling in his entire body, he still couldn’t open his wings, however. He could shift them, somewhat. Then he felt the cool press of metal. His wings had been bound to his body. He stopped moving so the drakes wouldn’t see him. Maybe if he could wait until they slept… No, they probably took watches. Plus, that would take too long. Better to listen. Maybe he could make out a key detail.

            He perked his ears as much as he could without being noticed. There was some grumbling, and then, _Sammy_. From that he could deduce that one of them was Sam. The other responded with a hurried, _Dean_. Ok so Sam and Dean. Where had he heard those names before?

            He opened his eye wider, so he could make out the drakes across the clearing a little better. They were quite large. Sure. Castiel may be smaller, but with his powers and his blade- Where was his blade? They probably took it. Right. Powers it was then.

            He saw one of the drakes starting to turn. Castiel quickly closed his eye and released any tension in his body as not to be discovered. He could feel the claws as they hit the ground, walking. Only one set of claws. This would make his life a whole lot easier.

            The claws stopped and Castiel dug his claws into the ground, letting the rest of himself go limp. Relaxed muscles made for quicker movements. He felt someone breathing over him. He counted silently to himself. _3_ … the breathing got hotter on his neck. _2…_ it came to rest on his head. _1…_ the dragon sat down.

            Castiel surged upward, his horns hitting the head of the dragon who was previously standing over him.

            “Ack. Son of a…”

            Castiel didn’t give him the chance to finish. He reared up and twisted in midair, throwing his tail at the other dragon from the side. It hit him, right in the side, knocking him off balance. Castiel took the moment of weakness to lunge at the drake. Unfortunately for him, the drake was quick and used his momentum to swing out of the way.

            He tackled Castiel from the back, and Castiel responded by doing a sideways roll of sorts to throw him off. Both he and the drake regained balance at the same time. They were now face to face. Castiel growled and the drake just smirked. Castiel lashed out with his claws, hoping to catch the side of his head, or maybe his neck. The drake dodged back, almost effortlessly. Castiel continued to lash out, and the drake continued to dodge. He swung his head, this way and that, not even returning the attacks, just dodging. Weird.

            Finally, he tripped over a branch and the drake took the moment to rush forward and push him over. Ah, there it was. Castiel hit the ground, pinning his wing under him in a very uncomfortable way. These bindings weren’t helping. If he had his wings, this battle could have been over in under a minute. The drake stood over him. Castiel clawed at the drake’s underbelly. The drake tried to pin him down and, in that moment, it occurred to him: this dragon wasn’t fighting to kill him, he was pulling his punches. Castiel was fighting to win.

            The drake standing over him had pinned his left hind claw by using his right hind claw. He shifted it just enough to grab onto the drake’s hind legs and sweep them out from under him. It was a move that he had come up with himself. He wasn’t exactly the largest dragon out there, and it was useful. Castiel used that momentum to change the position and pin the drake to the ground. Now he was the one in control. In one practiced, fluid motion, he used his tail and hind legs to pin the drake and shifter one front claw to be on the drake’s neck. He flexed the other front claw and forced it to the struggling drake’s head.

            He summoned his power to his claw to smite the dragon under him. His palm burned, but not the drake underneath it. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working!? He could feel his grace, he had all his power. He brought his claw up to look at. That’s when he noticed it, the silver band running around his wrist. The markings engraved on them. He knew these bindings, they were used for angel dragons that went off the rails or rebelled. Castiel came to the realization in horror: he was powerless.

            Castiel remembered the dragon he was standing over. He looked down. The drake was smirking, knowing that the dragon above him was deprived of his angelic power. Castiel’s muscles had relaxed while he was thinking. That was a mistake. The drake surged up. At this point it was just fighting technique against pure muscle.

            A heavy weight barreling in from the side sent him flying across the clearing. His back hit a tree, knocking the breath out of him. Then, the drake was there, locking a collar attached to the tree around his neck. Did they know this was going to happen? Did they plan this? He rose up and tried to lunge at the dragon, but the tree was mightier, and he was pulled back.

            Castiel growled at them, “You’ll pay for this. Dearly.”

            “He speaks!” the taller one exclaimed in sarcasm.

            “The angels will find you. I’ll make sure of it.” Castiel narrowed his eyes to slits.

            “Yeah well, I think they’ll be looking for a while before they find you,” the smaller one he just battled, turned to face the larger one, “What do you think Sammy? I think we are a little too far from the castle for them to find us right?”

            “I’d say so, Dean.”

            Castiel looked between them. Then, it clicked. “You two are the Winchesters, aren’t you?”

            The bigger one clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. The smaller one looked taken aback.

            Castiel nodded to the tall one, “That would make you Sam,” he turned to the smaller one, “and you Dean.”

            Sam began, “How do you-“

            “Please. You two are the most infamous bounty hunters out there. We were in the middle of a war, we had to use all of our assets.”

            “But we never got a mission from the angel dragons.”

            “No but you got some from complete strangers and underground workers, didn’t you?”

            They looked to be at a loss for words, so Castiel filled the silence, “The most logical conclusion I can draw from this, is that someone hired you to kidnap me. Who would want me? I can obviously tell they don’t want me dead, at least yet.” Castiel got a bad feeling in his gut when he said ‘yet.’

            The brothers looked at each other, seeming to reach an agreement. Dean spoke, “Well, since he’s planning on killing you, I guess there’s no harm in telling you. Crowley wants you dead.”

            Castiel felt dread, that’s what the bad feeling was. Dread. Crowley had more power than him in his current state. He didn’t have his angel blade either. He looked down. He couldn’t lose hope. The brothers couldn’t see it, but defiance flashed in his eyes. He wouldn’t lose hope.

            He made his voice sound tired, “How long have I been unconscious?”

            “Dean responded almost mechanically, “About three days.”

            Castiel sighed, “How many days until we get there?”

            “Well, transport has been denied from us, so, assuming you will cooperate- will you?”

            Castiel shook his head, “Considering you’re dragging me to my supposed death, I don’t think so, no.”

            Dean sighed, “Then it will probably take a week and a half at most.” He grumbled something almost inaudible after that. Something about ‘couldn’t have been a closer kingdom’ or ‘continent being too big.’

            The brothers turned away, heading towards a cart being pulled by a black qilin.

            “Do you two plan to unchain me? Or am I bound to this tree for the night?”

            Dean turned, it almost looked like there was a playful look in his eye, “Nah I think we’ll leave you there for now. We can pick back up in the morning.”

            “Wonderful,” Castiel said, unenthused.

 

...

 

            Night had rolled around. Fog had rolled in at some point, shielding the rest of the forest from the view of the clearing. It gave off almost an eerie feeling. But judging by the sudden fog, it was a safe guess that they were traveling through Purgatory Forest. Three days out. That would mean they may be passing through the town of Apocalypse soon. Castiel never liked creepy and dark names like that. They were named appropriately though. One could get lost in this forest and never get out if they didn’t know the way. Castiel had never bothered to explore this way or look at charts. They obviously were taking the long way around and avoiding large settlements. What else would you do if you were on the run from the most powerful kingdom on the continent? Unfortunately, because of his naivety, he didn’t know where they were. He’d have to rely on the brothers to get them out of the forest, so he could escape.

The brothers. Right. Mustn’t forget about them. How could he escape without them? He looked over at the sleeping drake under the tree across the clearing. Dean was snoring, loudly, and Sam was on guard duty. He looked to be reading something. Castiel was fiddling with the bark of the tree he was attached to as he thought of escape plans. All of them would require making it through the forest first. That, or somehow tricking one of the brothers into unlocking his bindings. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

            He looked over at Sam. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a moose?” Castiel asked for lack of a better pastime.

            “Do you ever sleep?” he retorted.

            “Angel dragons don’t sleep as often as regular dragons. Usually once every few days, or if we’re just plain exhausted.”

            “Uh-huh.” Sam said, not paying attention to him, but rather to his book.

            Castiel dug his claws into the soft bark of the tree. He got an idea. “What’s the book you’re reading about?”

            Sam ignored him. That’s fine, he just needed him not to see what he was doing. Castiel dug out a piece of wood, creating a curved line. Perfect.

“There was this angel dragon back in the kingdom. He used to be the scribe for the first king, King Charles. His name was Metatron. He always saw books as an escape from the world. But then again, he kind of went crazy and power-hungry.”

Sam looked up from the book, “What happened to him?”

“The king’s sister killed him.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. No one liked Metatron.” Castiel responded, matter-of-factly. Sam laughed.

Castiel worked at the wood of the tree for what seemed like an hour or so. Trying to chat with Sam while he worked. Amazingly, drawing attention to yourself made dragons suspect you less. You wouldn’t expect the most obvious person in the world to be a spy. Same principle.

            When he was done, he sat back and admired his work. The angel dragons would track him. They would track his grace signature. They could find him. They would know the way.


	5. And So the Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel hates Dean's guts and trouble begins to stir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I know I said that when Cas woke up they were three days out. Retcon time! Now, because it fits the plot better, Cas woke up the day after the party, one day out into the woods. That would mean this chapter takes place the next day. Just to reiterate, this would be the second day of travel if you don't include the night of the party. Also I know this left off on a sort-of cliffhanger. I will try and update soon! That's all and happy reading!

**Today**

 

            It had only been one day since the dragon had woken up and already he was on Dean’s nerves. He fought back. It was as he had said. I mean, Dean couldn’t expect him to just lie down and take his death, he would be doing the same thing. It was just irritating how he was fighting back. It was in the little things, like being in the way or taking too long to get up (at that point Sam would just drag him to the cart), and it annoyed the hell out of Dean.

            The sun was rising, but the forest was still dark. It was time to keep moving. Sam was already up and had been for quite some time. Even on a hunt, Sam was able to find time for exercising and being healthy. Dean supposed it was a fine idea, just not one that he would participate in.

            Dean looked around last night’s chosen clearing. The gloom seemed omnipresent. The sun, even though it lit up the forest enough to see, didn’t have a strong enough effect to chase away any fog or heavy shadows. He lifted his head and uncrossed his claws, getting up on his feet. Dean reached out his claws in front of him and curved his back, stretching in a cat-like way. Something cracked. Multiple things cracked. It was probably fine. His muscles felt very stiff however. It was probably from hauling that drakon around. He turned around once he was done and met the piercing gaze of their prisoner. He resisted the urge to flinch from the startle.

            The angel was watching him with an attentive gaze. His head was lifted but his body was turned away from the sleeping place of the brothers. His pose almost looked painful, the way he was twisting his neck around from a reclining position. Dean realized he had been staring.

            “You sleep like a giraffe.”

            The dragon blinked at him slowly.

            “Like a really uncomfortable giraffe.”

            This awarded him a look of confusion, and then, an answer. “You sleep like a bear.”

            Dean was startled by the comment. But then, he laughed. It was a hearty laugh, the kind you threw your body into. He laughed for a good few seconds before he realized the dragon was still staring at him.

            “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He couldn’t be sure, but he thought that his comment earned him a reaction from the dragon.

            Dean raised an eye arch, “Glad to see you’re up, we have a lot of ground to cover today.”

            The dragon smirked. “I think I’m ok. I’ll just go back to sleep now.” And with that he twisted his neck back around and rested his head on the ground.

            “You’re joking right? You have got to be joking.”

            This was received with a grunt.

            Dean sighed, “We leave in 10 minutes,” and with that, he turned around and stalked off towards Sam.

            Turns out, Sam had been watching the whole thing and trying not to laugh. As Dean walked towards him, Sam stilled and coughed to stifle his giggles. Dean glared at him.

            “The target is playing his usual games. He’s trying to slow us down again. So, who’s gonna drag him to the cart this time?”

            Sam raised an eye arch, “Why don’t we stay here today? We need to refresh our food supplies. We did use quite a lot of it while we were on our way to the Kingdom of Angels. One of us could go hunting while the other stays here. Someone needs to watch the target-“

            “My name is Castiel.”

            It took Dean a moment to register that the dragon was speaking. Sam too, it seemed. Dean turned around slowly and met the target’s gaze.

            “Alright, Cas-tee-elle, tell me, did I ask you what your name was?”

            “No, but I think it rude to just keep referring to me as ‘the target.’ The least you could do is call me by my given name.”

            Dean glared at him. He turned back to Sam who shrugged nonchalantly.

            “What’s a dying dragon’s final wish?”

            “I’m not dying, and I won’t die for a long time yet. I’ll escape, and when I do, my entire kingdom will have your heads.” Castiel’s voice was already gravely, but with his anger, it sounded like a growl that resembled words.

            Dean smirked. “Aww look at that. The prisoner is threatening us.”

            Dean looked into his eyes and only saw cold anger. Maybe he wasn’t joking. Still, there was no way he could escape, everything was angel-proof.”

            “Look Castiel, you aren’t going anywhere. Besides, if you do, you’ll never be able to find us.”

            “I think you underestimate my powers of observation,” Castiel said as he stood. Dean didn’t break eye contact. The dragon’s eyes were filled with fury and his masked, usual persistent look of curiosity. Clever, this dragon was playing the long game. Dean wouldn’t let Castiel get a rise out of him. He wouldn’t let any information slide.

            At this point Sam cut in, “He’s not gonna be able to report whatever he hears, who cares anyways? He’ll be dead soon enough.”

            Dean opened his mouth to try and reason with Sam and tell him what the dragon was doing, but realized Sam was giving him a look that said ‘just get the job done.’ He needed to tell Sam what Castiel’s plan was. It would have to wait until they were alone. Instead of saying anything, he closed his mouth. Indeed, Castiel was going to be dead in a few days, how could tiny bits of information they had let slip hurt them? No wait, scratch that, it could hurt them in many ways. They would have to be much more careful from now on.

 

...

 

**Yesterday morning**

 

            “I’m not happy.” Lucifer stood in front of his throne, subtly striking what he hoped was a majestic pose worthy of a king.

            “When I’m not happy, bad things happen.” He flared his wings almost flinching at the unfamiliar gold color. He had dyed his wings a different color for the war as to seem more ‘kingly’ on posters and in media. It was unfortunate, however, many archangel dragons had golden wings. It was so, common. His actual wing color was white, but he usually kept them dyed bright pink with some glitter here and there. It was quite amazing, the fear it imposed on everyone. Sure, they saw him as a king, but a king who took no shit from any dragon, and his wings showed it.

            He turned his head towards the room full of the highest-ranking officials in the kingdom. “You all have permission to speak. What’s the report? How are we handling the situation?”

            All the dragons seemed to look at one another, and then, Raphael stepped forward. Of course. Whenever any sort of power was on the line it was either him or Michael to step forward. He glanced at Gabriel on the other side of the room. His look was full of scrutiny. Gabriel knew of his true nature also and was trying to figure out his plan.

            Raphael spoke, “Lucifer-“

            “King. King Lucifer.”

            Raphael allowed his guarded expression to drop for a slip second. “King, Castiel had only been missing since last night. How can we be sure he isn’t just out somewhere in the kingdom with some dragon?”

            Gabriel took the opportunity to speak. He addressed Raphael fully, “Raphael, you know our little brother. He is most certainly not off somewhere with some dragon. He wouldn’t allow himself to rest until the demons had been fought off completely.”

            Raphael shot Gabriel a hardened look and in return, Gabriel gave him a cheeky smile.

            Michael took his turn to step forward. “Your majesty, I took the liberty of searching the grounds for Castiel and he is nowhere to be found. I also checked with the caterers, and it seems that there are two dragons that were there who they didn’t recognize as their own. I believe them to be the Winchesters.” Michael unrolled a scroll as he said this. The scroll pictured the mugshots of two adult drakons. A murmur went through the crowd.

            “So what you’re saying is that the Winchesters took him? How could they even get close?”

            Balthazar barged in. “I’ll tell you how. The moment Cassie took a sip of his champagne, he got this look about him. He acted sick and he stumbled away and out of the main hall where every dragon was gathered.”

            Michael spoke, “Ah, Balthazar. How nice of you to join us. Making a dramatic, late entrance as always I see.”

            Balthazar shot him a look. “All I’m saying is, no one has seen him since, and that’s about the time those two Winchesters disappeared as well. I do believe the events could be connected.”

            Lucifer considered this. “Alright then. It seems we have a rough idea of the event last night. Gabriel, Balthazar, Michael, Raphael, to the war room.”

 

...

 

            Michael watched as Lucifer walked out, expecting him to follow. He would, of course, eventually. He saw Raphael start walking. Michael grabbed his tail, signaling for him to stay once everyone had left. They had to wait for the king to finish exiting before they could exit. Another stupid rule Michael would get rid of. It was completely inconvenient for his subjects.

            Once the hall was cleared, Raphael turned to him, impatient. “What?” he asked in his hurried and somewhat frustrated manner.

            “Raphael don’t act like you don’t know what we could accomplish! There’s a crisis in the kingdom and a seat of power has opened up!”

            Raphael took a moment to think. Michael watched as he surveyed the room, looking up at the stone carvings of dragons lining the balconies. “I have always admired this room. The craftsmanship of these old stone figures. It’s the only true way to see the likeness of the dragons who came before us.”

“You’re circumventing the topic, Raphael.”

“Michael, you assume that you can usurp the throne from Lucifer. I do wonder, how do you plan to carry through on that? Our brother may be the most powerful archangel dragon that has ever lived. How can you even hope to compete?”

This shut Michael up for a few seconds. Then he seemed to come to a conclusion. “If I can land you our dear brother Castiel’s job, you could support me from the inside and turn the remaining dragons against our king.”

Raphael took another long moment to think.

Michael got impatient, “Raphael, think about it. We were always our father’s least favorite sons. Lucifer and Castiel were always in the spotlight, Gabriel too. We were always cast aside. With this power, think about the change we could make. No more small kingdom with little wars. We could rule over the entire continent and wipe out the demons once and for all! Every drake living on this planet would live under our rule! The lowly monsters of this planet, they could be added to our ranks. I’ve been experimenting-“

“Experimenting? Michael, if word about this ever gets out, you know what will happen.”

“Let the rumors spread then! Soon enough I’ll be king, and no one will dare to challenge me!”

Raphael sighed, “You’re forgetting the most important factor to this equation.”

“And that would be?”

“You assume that you can turn our kingdom on Lucifer. They are loyal, and they may take a stand against us. Contrary to your belief, we can’t win against an army of regular angel dragons, plus two archangels.”

“Alright so we may not be able to take on an entire kingdom single-clawed. But I’m sure we can at least turn some to our side at first.”

“And our brother’s zealots?” Raphael asked with a scrutinous look.

“Ah yes, the loyalty our brother has earned from the radicals after our father passed him the crown. Those dragons may be loyal to Lucifer, but that loyalty was born out of fear of his power. We can use that fear to turn them against him.”

Michael considered the dragons. As Raphael had said, they were zealots, an extremist following of Lucifer. They were descended from the angel dragons but had more demonic powers than most. Thankfully there were only four of them, no wait, one had been killed, that made three. No one liked them, but they had power and needed to be won to their side if they wanted to succeed.

Raphael seemed to be calculating something in his head. “Alright then, I’ll help you. Now we should get to the war room. It’s rare that our brother invites us to such important meetings. We wouldn’t want to keep him waiting too long.”

 

...

 

            Lucifer watched the door as he heard clawsteps coming down the hall. Finally, everyone was arriving. How long could it take a dragon to exit the throne room, navigate a labyrinthine castle from the throne room all the way to the north tower, and enter the room at the top of the tower? Ok so maybe it may take longer than Lucifer when he has both a head start and is one of the fastest fliers in the kingdom.

            Gabriel entered the room first followed by Balthazar and two very out of breath, trying-to-hold-it-together-looking Michael and Raphael. They probably ran. Even though their father was gone, those two still refused to fly in the castle. They refuse to make life easier for themselves, so be it.

            Lucifer looked around at the dragons he had called to this meeting. Balthazar looked out of place. He was only a soldier, after all. But still, he was a smart soldier who looked out for himself and Lucifer could admire that.

            “Alright. Talk to me.”

            Michael looked at the map table that pictured the continent. “Well, based on the fact that the war has almost been won, we can assume that it’s the demon kingdom who want him. That would mean they would have to travel across the continent.”

            Raphael picked right up where Michael left off. “There are several ways to get across the continent. Now since I’m assuming Castiel wouldn’t go with them willingly, they probably have a cart. This limits our options some.”

            Gabriel chimed in, “Great so we’re looking for a route that a cart can take.”

            “Yes,” Michael responded, “but with a missing dragon with such a famous face, they would have to avoid going through large settlements or any at all.”

            “My theory is that they used the Purgatory Forest to avoid civilization at all costs. There are routes known to few that could take a dragon through the woods successfully.” Raphael spoke carefully as to measure out his words and make sense of them to everyone.

            Again, Michael spoke, “That would still leave a small settlement that they would have to pass through however,” he pointed to a small town on the map, “Apocalypse.”

            Lucifer considered all the information that he had just been given. “It seems we have our plan of action then. We send scouts to wait until the Winchesters arrive in the town, and then we kill them and free Castiel.”

            “My king that is a truly wonderful idea, except, we don’t know how far along the Winchesters are.”

            Lucifer was surprised that Balthazar had openly disagreed with him, but he had to agree. “What do you propose then, Balthazar?”

            “I propose that we send two soldiers into the forest, traveling along one of those paths Raphael was talking about. If they spot the Winchesters before they get to the town, they kill them and free Castiel sooner than they would have if we had waited until they reached the town.”

            “Smart,” Lucifer remarked, “I can see why Castiel likes you. Alright,” he turned to Michael and Raphael, “you two are in charge of the forest scouting party since you seem to be well acquainted with the forest paths,” he turned to point at Balthazar, “You are in charge of the Apocalypse scouting party. There, now you all have your missions.”

            They all looked at him.

Lucifer Pinched the bridge of his snout. “Go!”

In a hurry, they all left.

“Wait, Gabriel! Come back.”

Gabriel turned his head, a curious glint in his eyes. “What do you need?”

 

... 

 

            Dean paced back and forth across the forest floor. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Castiel watching him. Did that dragon ever blink? Dean shook his head. Sam had gone out hunting just like he had said. The brothers owned a pair of trackers so they could tell where the other was whenever they needed to. Dean and Sam had left both of their trackers turned on for Sam to find his way back. In Dean’s opinion, he should be the one out hunting. He knows the forest better. The fact is though, Dean never won at rock, paper, scissors.

            “Do you ever stop pacing?”

            Dean was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t hear the rough voice from across the clearing. He still had to take a moment to process it. His pace slowed to a stop and he turned his head in the direction of the dragon sitting at the base of the tree.

            “What?”

            “Do you ever stop pacing?”

            “No, I heard you the first time. I’m just trying to figure out why you think it’s a good idea to keep smart-mouthing me.” Dean said in annoyance.

            “It’s not like you can do anything about it,” Castiel shrugged, “why should I mind myself around you? You’ll be dead soon enough.”

            Dean gave him a look, “I must be confused because I could have sworn that you said _I_ would be dead,” he made sure to put emphasis on the I, “and not you, the dragon we have chained to a tree.”

            Castiel snorted, “To think, I saw you as a tactically smart dragon and not some simpleton drake with a crossbow and an agenda,” he made sure to look him dead in the eye, “it makes me look like the foolish simpleton.”

            Dean had, had just about enough of this dragon they were transporting. In his anger, he picked up the nearest knife to him, crossed the clearing in almost two steps, and held the blade to the dragon’s neck.

            “What did you just call me?” Dean asked in his fury.

            “I-“

            “And be very careful with your answer.”

            Castiel smirked. “I called you a foolish simpleton drake.”

            Dean tense up.

            “However, it seems my analysis of you was a tad incorrect.”

            Dean relaxed.

            “You’re a coward too. A real drake would have stabbed-“

            Dean with drew the blade and in a quick, practiced motion, stabbed the blade into the dragon’s chest. It slid between his scales nicely, Dean had grown up with this and did know how to aim after all. He staggered back, leaving the blade embedded in Castiel’s chest. The realization of what he had just done hit him.

            Dean looked up at the dragon’s face in horror. However, when his eyes landed on Castiel’s face, he only saw a smile. The dragon looked down at where the blade had struck him. He sat back on his hind legs, took the handle of the blade in both claws, and proceeded to pull it out, all while maintaining direct eye contact with Dean. Once the blade was fully dislodged, he cast it aside.

            While Dean was at a loss for words, wondering how this dragon wasn’t dead, Castiel spoke, “I would have imagined your boss would have told you about the unique biology of angel dragons?”

            Dean finally found words, “That demon knife should be able to kill anything.”

            Castiel smirked, “Definitely not everything.”


	6. Split Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes hunting, Castiel gets smacked with a deer.

He had caught three deer so far, one for each of them. Maybe he should get another one for Dean as a ‘sorryyoukeephavingtodealwiththeprisoner’ gift. Sam examined them as he set them on the ground. One of them was in pretty rough shape. The deer was flea bitten and looked to be a runt. The prisoner could get that one. It would be fine.

            Maybe he should just contact Dean to see if he wanted anything. The deer was far from pie, but so were they. The middle of the forest wasn’t exactly a gourmet bakery and it would still be another three days at least before they reached Apocalypse. Apocalypse. Sam had always hated the name. It was a dark name fit for a shifty and skeletal town. It was the perfect place for bounty hunters like them. It was known to few, only those within the crime, monster, and hunter community. It should be small enough not to draw attention to their endeavors. Unless Crowley sent the bounty out to the public, which would just make their jobs harder. It was such an important mission though, he wouldn’t risk other hunters getting the bounty. He hoped so, at least.

            Sam slung the bag on his back around so that it was in front of him. He opened the front pocket and removed his communicator. Almost as soon as it was out of the bag the screen lit up with a new notification. Sam sighed. Of course, another mission, this one out for the public. Sam tapped the icon that would show him the details of the hunt. Woah. This one seemed bad. It looks like two hunters had already been killed, aaaaand there was a call for one of the Winchester brothers. Yay. The question was, who would take the hunt? One of them would have to finish escorting the prisoner, the other could take the… Wait, what creature even was this?

            Sam looked through the information section. Huh. Small town, the usual, multiple victims, even more usual. The unusual part was the different ways each victim had been killed. One fell out of a window, one was eaten by something and found near a sewer, one was a supposed ‘bear’ attack that broke into some dragon’s home, and one wasn’t killed at all, it said he claimed to have been abducted by aliens. Every hunter worth his salt knew aliens didn’t exist. This was going to be interesting. Sam had to be the one to go. Something like this needed to be researched, extensively. The problem was, how could he get Dean to stay?

            Sam turned off his communicator, not before checking his position relative to Dean’s, and put it back in his bag. He grabbed the necks of the deer in his jaws. The flea bitten one tasted rotten. Sam scrunched his snout in disgust. The prisoner would somehow have to stomach this. With that final thought, he turned and started walking in the direction of their day camp.

 

...

 

            The sound of metal scraping on rock was making Dean’s ears bleed after who knows how long. Sharpening his knives always gave him some comfort. Going through the motions, you didn’t have to think about anything, no what-looks-to-be-a-three-week job and definitely no angel dragons.

            “How sharp can a knife be?!”

            One angel dragon. One angel dragon that they were charged to bring all the way across the continent. Dean paused his work, took a deep breath, and raised his head to meet the angry eyes of Castiel.

            “You’d be amazed. Anyways, why do you care?”

            “You have been sharpening that one knife for so long that I swear I’m going deaf from that grating sound!”

            It amazed Dean to no end how this dragon was able to sound angry and yet keep his voice at a steady growl. He never had that kind of voice control, if he was angry, his vocal range would show it. The other thing that amazed Dean was how he held the prisoner’s life in his claws, yet Castiel always seemed to try and push his limits.

            Dean let out a small laugh and continued to sharpen his knife, this time trying to make it as loud as possible. He looked over at Castiel who was now pressing his ears back, trying to block out the sound. He had murder in his eyes and it was all directed at Dean. Dean stopped sharpening the knife for a moment, making it seem as though he was finished, and waited for the angel dragon to uncover his ears. Just as he had relaxed, Dean quickly and roughly dragged the blade across the whetstone with a grinding screech. Ouch. That one hurt.

            Apparently, the angel dragon agreed. Castiel half growled and half roared. He got up and tried to lunge at Dean. The collar that attached him to the tree held, however, and he was jerked back. He flailed around on the ground, clawing at the metal band around his throat and making choked roaring noises. He struggled on the ground for many seconds.

Dean got up and walked towards the struggling dragon on the ground being careful to stay only just out of his range. Castiel kept struggling and choking himself, trying to pull himself free. He finally gave up and flopped to the ground.

“Having fun?” He asked with a smirk.

“Go to hell.” Castiel growled through gritted teeth.

“Been there, didn’t agree with me.”

Dean noticed he was breathing heavily. “You know you can’t break those chains, right? They are made out of-“

“Let me guess, melted angel blades?” Castiel held up the silver bands around his wrists and shoved them in Dean’s face, “Spells and rune-work? Please, I’ve heard it all before. We fought a war, it’s nothing my soldiers haven’t seen… Or died of…”

Dean retreated and watched as his eyes and head dropped to the ground. His muscles had relaxed. This wasn’t normal. It seemed as though the wall that hid his emotions had come down. It was almost… sad. There was something, a look behind Castiel’s eyes. It was the same look Dean had when they found his father dead on the floor of a hospital.

Dean opened his mouth but found no words. He hesitated before finding what he wanted to say, “Cas-“

Sam came barging through the bushes, rather noisily, with three deer hanging from his mouth. Dean turned back to Castiel who had raised his head and regained his normal angry look of defiance.

Sam dropped the deer from his mouth. “Dean! Guess wha-“

He stopped his rampage and eyed Castiel. “You know what, let’s talk somewhere else.” Sam turned around and flicked his tail, indicating for Dean to follow him.

Dean grumbled to himself. He glanced out the corner of his eye at the prisoner who was watching the place Sam disappeared to with a watchful gaze. Ah. Trying to avoid eye contact. Makes sense. Dean would never talk to someone he didn’t know about something like that. Hell, he would rarely talk to Sam about that. Poor guy. They won the war and then he gets kidnapped. It’s probably been a rough few weeks for him. Hey, what did he care?

Dean snapped back to reality, looked at a waving Sam, and walked over to the bushes he was standing in. Sam was giving him a mixed look of frustration, interest, pain, and excitement.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Ok so I was out hunting as you can see, and when I was getting ready to check the tracking beacon, I got a notification,” Sam took a breath, “The notification turned out to be a new mission that has been drawing a few bounty hunters, all of whom have died, and someone sent out a special request that one or both of us take the case meaning that one of us will have to leave to take the hunt while the other finishes this mission and gets the prisoner to Crowley.”

Dean blinked at Sam. “What?”

“I said that-“

“No, no I heard everything you said. I’m just- Let me process.” Dean sat back on his hind legs, brought up one of his claws to his face, and proceeded to rub his temples.

“So let me get this straight, you accepted another hunt even though we are in the middle of probably one of the most dangerous missions we’ve ever been sent on?”

“Well technically I didn’t accept yet, I was just hoping we could figure out the plan.”

“Alright then Sammy, what’s the plan?”

“Well I was thinking that you could stay here with the prisoner while I go out and-“

“Why do I have to stay with the prisoner?”

“Dean I-“

“Throughout this entire mission you have thrown me at the prisoner instead of yourself. At the gala, you made me be the one to ‘seduce’ him, even though it was completely unnecessary!” Dean tried to control his voice, so the prisoner wouldn’t overhear them.

Sam snickered at the statement but tried to stifle it. Dean just glared.

“You went hunting and I hung back, now you want to go off on another mission and leave me to deal with the dragon we kidnapped from one of the most dangerous kingdoms in the world?”

“You can handle him. All you have to do is transport him through Apocalypse and it’s a straight shot to the demon kingdom.”

“Gee, you make it sound so easy.” Dean wrinkled his snout in a sneer as he nodded in his most patronizing manner.

Sam responded similarly. “Look Dean, I wouldn’t be asking you about this if I assumed you couldn’t control him.”

“We have him chained to a tree, Sam, a tree,” Dean deadpanned, “Control is of no consequence here. What happens if he breaks free and you aren’t there to stop him from smiting me? What if he makes it to the bunker? What happens if…” Dean stopped talking when he noticed he had been inching forward with each word. It was too late to go back now. He dropped his head.

Sam gave him a sad look. He knew how Dean’s mind worked. Too many times had their enemies found the ones they loved. He knew that. Both of them knew that. Kevin had known it, Pamela had known it, their parents had known it.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, “you will be ok. You know how to keep safe. I know you can match him in strength and tactic. He can’t get the angel bands off without a key”

Dean sighed. He lifted his head so that his eyes met Sam’s. “Alright, fine. I can carry on with the prisoner, you go off on this hunt.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “I-“

“But you owe me big for this one.”

Sam nodded. “That’s completely understandable.”

 

... 

 

            Castiel stared at his claws as he focused on his surroundings. The silver bands on his wrists and body limited him from using all of his angelic powers, unfortunately including his hearing abilities. He could no longer listen in to a conversation that was happening behind a wall much less one in hushed tones way out of his hearing range.

            As Castiel stared at his cuffs he realized that, still clinging to his form, was his tuxedo jacket he was wearing the night of the gala. It had been torn in many places and had a mixture of mud, dried dirt, leaf mold, and broken bits of sticks all over it. With the jacket in that state, the shirt was almost gone. It had the same residue, but the shirt included an added tear where the knife had been stabbed into his chest. It appeared that the Winchester brother had stabbed it just in the right place so the tear with the added holes would destroy the shirt. Great.

            Castiel stopped staring at his jacket. His clothes weren’t important right now, listening was. He strained his ears to hear what he could of the conversation being held through the thicket across the clearing. Just murmurs. Wait, no. Something about a hunt? Chained to a tree? What could that mean. Castiel made a face to himself as he realized they were referring to him. There were more murmurs, none that he could make out. It was all one huge garbled mess to him.

            The murmurs stopped, and the bushes started trembling as a dragon tries to push his way through them. Castiel dropped his head and ears to make himself look inconspicuous. Dean finished pushing through the bushes. He shook his scales free of any leaves that may have caught on them and started to walk towards his cart. He paused in the middle of the clearing and looked over to where Castiel lay.

            “You don’t have to pretend like you weren’t listening.” Dean eyed him suspiciously.

            “What difference would it make,” Castiel countered, “You’re taking me to Crowley anyways.”

            Dean gave him a look. Castiel gave it up, “Fine, I guess that _when_ I escape I could use it to make you regret you were ever hatched.”

            Dean walked over and brought his head down to make eye contact, much in the same way he did at the gala. The same playful glint in his eye was even present still.

            “Not _when_ you escape, because you never will.” He positioned himself back to his normal height.

            Expecting him to turn around and walk away, Castiel rested his head back on the ground. He did not expect to feel claws against his side. Startled, he flinched away from the touch, but Dean’s claws were snagged on his tattered clothes and he only ended up pulling the dragon with him. Dean landed on top of his side, pinning Castiel’s already trapped wing against his body.

            “Get off me!” Castiel growled at him.

            “Easy there, feather-ass!” Dean quipped.

            Castiel heaved upward just as Dean was standing up, sending him flying. It took them both a moment, but they eventually regained balance on their feet. Castiel whirled around and assumed his fighting stance, head low and standing on all fours. If his wings weren’t trapped, he would have thrown them out as to give him more balance and keep his opponents away. When he noticed Dean was in a relaxed stance, Castiel let his guard down and slowly returned to a normal posture. Dean waited for him.

            “What were you doing?”

            “All I was trying to do was look at your clothes,” Dean said while gesturing to the rags that Castiel, only a moment ago, had too been examining, “They’re in tatters!”

            “And? I’m sure yours would be too after being dragged throughout the forest for days.”

            Dean grumbled something inaudible and then looked from Castiel to the cart. “All I wanted to say was that I had grabbed extra clothes in case you wanted them.”

            “What? One of your flannels?”

            Dean gave him a look. “No, in fact, I figured I would grab some from your room in the palace. Might as well be courteous to someone who would bite it soon.” As he finished speaking, he walked over to the cart and opened a trunk that was stored under the bench. He pulled out a folded set of clothes.

            The Winchester carried them in one claw as he hobbled on the other three claws towards Castiel. He held out a stack of garments to the waiting dragon who accepted them. Castiel sat back on his hind legs and accepted the clothes. Among them were a white shirt (like the one he was already wearing), a regular black suit jacket, a blue tie, and his trench coat.

            “I- um, thanks.” Castiel spit out.

            Dean nodded. Just then, someone cleared their throat. Castiel looked over and found the other Winchester brother sitting at the edge of the clearing. Castiel looked from Sam, who was smirking, to Dean, who was keeping his face oddly neutral. Castiel just sat there as they watched him.

            Sam spoke first, “So, uh, are you gonna change or not?”

            Castiel stared at him. “That involves me taking off my clothes and both of you are currently staring at my form.”

            Dean made a choking noise that he tried to stifle. However, both of them had heard it. The look they shared was quick, but Castiel had seen it. He was a master of observation, after all. They continued to stand around.

            “Can you turn around then please?” Castiel asked in a frustrated tone.

            Dean opened his mouth to respond but no intelligible words came out. Instead of trying to speak again, he turned around and walked over to his quilin. She was a beautiful jet black, very muscular too. She was probably very fast and strong enough to carry an artillery in her cart. Dean stroked her neck and whispered to her. Castiel look over at Sam who looked like he had seen this a thousand times over. Sam caught him watching and turned around to sort out the deer situation.

            Castiel set his stack of clothes on the cleanest root he could find on the tree he was chained to and started to undress. To dragons, decency was a curious thing. Not all dragon’s wore clothes and if they did, it was only shirts or jackets or little accessories. There were many dragons who chose to, instead, show off their scales. It wasn’t rude. It wasn’t seen as indecency either. It was just personal preference. To Castiel, however, he thought that clothes were decent. It seemed that the Winchesters thought so as well.

            Castiel tried removing his tuxedo jacket which had gotten stuck under the silver band they used to bind his wings to his body. Once he dislodged it, he threw it to the ground and started work on his shirt which was in a similar predicament. Once he had removed all of his garments he took a look at his chest. His silver scales had been covered in a layer of dust and grime that had somehow gotten under his clothes.

            He tried brushing off what he could, but he knew he’d need a bath to wash off the remnants. He eyed the rags he left on the ground and before the Winchesters could spot him, he tucked them away in a hole between some roots of the tree he was chained to. With luck, the Winchesters wouldn’t see them, but a trained set of angelic eyes would.

            He lifted the tie and suit jacket to grab the white shirt. Angelic clothes were usually made with open backs, slits for the wings, or open backs that could be buttoned up. Castiel preferred slits and button-ups for his shirts, but when it came to his trench coat, he used one developed for drakes. It was very useful for hiding. He could tuck his wings under it when he wanted to, and if he ever needed to fly, he could just pop his wings out the side and the trench coat would just be. He knew that, to other angels, it seemed like a hassle. Wouldn’t you want to show off such beautiful feathers? The other angelic dragons had always loved extravagance and any opportunity to flaunt their scales and wings. Perhaps that’s what had always set Castiel aside. He preferred the smaller, more delicate, little things that made something what it was. That and he was the only one of the royals not to be born with three pairs of wings.

            He finished getting dressed as he thought about his brothers. No doubt Lucifer was sending someone for him. No doubt Michael and Raphael were trying to claim power. No doubt Gabriel was somewhere playing tricks on some poor dragon. No doubt Castiel would find a way to escape, to see past what was. Dragons were creatures of habit after all.

            A deer smacked him in the face, jarring him out of his thought.

            “Let’s eat!” Sam said.

 

... 

 

            Hester moved between the trees with agility comparable to that of a hummingbird, or a dragonfly. She flew below the treetops but above the ground, extending and tucking in her wings as she avoided branches. Her wings were meant for high speed flying with minimal broad flaps. They were also perfect for battle. The long bones gave her amazing reach in battle. These strengths kept her going and made her one of Castiel’s most trusted soldiers. But soon it would make her the most perfect general the kingdom had ever seen.

            “Hester!”

The voice sounded out of breath behind and below her. Ah, yes. Rachel. Raphael and Michael had sent them out on the mission together. The mission to retrieve Castiel from the evil clutches of those cursed Winchester brothers.

“Hester slow down!” Rachel spoke again, this time closer.

Hester sighed and slowed her flight to land on the ground. She heard two claw beats landing behind her. Hester turned around and found Rachel right behind her. Rachel’s wings were more meant for low speed soaring and high lift. Her wings were more akin to that of a vulture’s. Needless to say, Rachel was slow and couldn’t keep up with Hester that well.

“What?” Hester asked Rachel in a rather impatient tone.

“Hester, Michael and Raphael sent us to find Castiel. How do we even know they sent us in the right direction? This forest is endless, they could be anywhere by now!”

Hester rolled her eyes.

“We found the Enochian carving in the tree bark that Castiel carved. He stated they were following the road to Apocalypse,” Hester gestured to the road they were on, “We are on the road to Apocalypse.”

“Yes, but it’s been two days since Lucifer gave Michael and Raphael our orders. They would have to be around here somewhere if we were heading in the right direction. So how can we be?”

Hester took a moment to reach out her angelic senses and to try and find any signs of their target. There. She heard movement and voices. Then, Castiel. His voice, his grace, she could sense him. She opened her eyes and faced Rachel.

“There.” She whirled around and pointed up the road. “He’s just through there.”

Michael had given his orders. Soon, he would be king, and she would be his general.


	7. The First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a shit ton of fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry! I'm not dead, I promise. I have had an unbelievably busy past two months and I've only now just caught a break so I thought I'd post another chapter. You can probably expect regular monthly updates again, but since I'm like that, don't count on it.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Also: as an apology I wrote a "baby in a trench coat" scene for you all.

“Come on Cas don’t look so glum!” Dean laughed as he made fun of him.

            Castiel paused his inspection of the deer on the ground before him and slowly lifted his eyes.

            “Your brother smacked me in the snout with a rotten deer carcass and now you’re expecting me to eat it,” Castiel gave him the most patronizing, disbelieving look he could muster as he said this, “Not exactly the nicest way to treat your guest is it?” Castiel knew he was playing a risky card by trying to get the two dragons riled up, but maybe it could yield him a few well-placed claws to the throat.

            Instead of one of them getting up, Sam snorted. “At least we’re feeding you. I can’t guarantee you would get such-“ Sam smirked while waving to his surroundings and bowing- “gracious and luxurious treatment from other hunters.”

            Castiel tensed at the bark of laughter that came from his left. “Sorry _your highness_ but we can’t exactly afford to take you through the city to a spa, fancy cuisine, or a five-star hotel.”

            Castiel growled in annoyance, “At least I have sense of what’s civilized,” Castiel tried again to get a rise out of them, “Unlike you heathens who think the word civilized means drinking champagne instead of cheap beer.” Castiel’s jaw tensed as he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Ever since he had opened up about the war he had refused to make eye contact with Dean. He hadn’t meant to talk about the war like that, but once he started talking it just started to, sort of, flow. Of course, all that had been interrupted when the other Winchester had rudely (yet thankfully for Castiel) barged in.

            Dean had gotten up and was moving towards him. That he could sense. Maybe if he could kill one Winchester the other would get close enough to fell. Castiel kept his eyes forward, intent not to let Dean intimidate him. As the stomping grew closer, Castiel slowly tensed his entire body, ready to spring. Once Dean got to his side, he used his claws to grab his jaw and force Castiel’s head to the side and up, looking him directly in the eye. For some odd reason, they kept ending up in this position, Castiel lying on the ground looking up into the startlingly green eyes of his captor.

            Dean smirked and then sobered, “The only _heathens_ ,” he carefully enunciated the word, “are the dragons who think it necessary to kill innocent drakes in a war between demons and angels.” He pushed his head away on the last word.

            Dean said something else but Castiel couldn’t hear it over the slow growl rising in his throat. Whatever he was saying got cut off when Castiel lunged for his throat. His left claw tore through the fabric of the flannel he was wearing and hit the hard plating of his belly, tearing open the shirt in the process. Dean let out a short, sharp cry of pain. Dean staggered back at the same time Castiel scrambled towards him. He lashed out with his right claw catching him in the left shoulder, now bare due to the torn shirt having fallen off. In his anger he felt his palm go hot and he heard Dean grunting to stifle a shout of pain as he was pushed to his right.

            Castiel paused his attack when he heard it. Unfortunately, that small hesitation allowed the Winchester to scramble back out of his reach. Castiel touched his neck where the collar had dug into his scales. He didn’t feel like being choked by a collar again just to try and reach him, so he gave up and settled back down. Dean was clutching his shoulder where Castiel had hit him. Dean lifted his gaze to meet his own and all he saw was rage and confusion. Dean lifted his claw for a split second and Castiel saw a claw imprint burned onto his scales.

            Dean kept clutching his shoulder. “What did you do?!” he hissed in pain.

            Castiel didn’t know how to respond to that question so instead he finished the conversation about the war. “You think my kind are monsters. You think we wanted this war. We didn’t. My dragons and the demons have been at war ever since we were created. I have lost good soldiers and I have lost innocents that got caught in the crossfire. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret every life I’ve lost, every mistake I have made, every order that wasn’t given in time.” When he finished, he flopped back on the ground and dragged the flea-bitten deer to him. He took a bite and chewed through the tough, sinewy flesh as theatrically as he could. No matter what he did, Castiel was careful not to look at either of the brothers.

 

...

 

            Rachel crouched in the treetops, being careful not to disturb any branches and alert the dragons below of her position. The scene that played out before them was, interesting, to say the least. Rachel knew Castiel’s fighting tactics and was surprised to find him hesitate at the other dragon’s pain. She saw how merciless he was on the battlefield. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he trying to kill the drake?

            That’s when it clicked. As Raphael had said, he was gaining power by using the souls of drakes to overthrow the throne. He must be saving the drakes to help power him up. She was still in shock about what Raphael had told her. She couldn’t believe it at first, but when he showed her the evidence, that’s when all of his weird habits made sense. It explained why he found drake culture so interesting and why he spent so much time among them instead of up in the palace.

Rachel looked up and into the trees. She could see Hester in the dark pine across the clearing. They were both using their angelic powers as a means of hiding. They were keeping invisible while reading the minds of one another to communicate. Rachel looked up to meet the eyes of Hester.

 _Should we attack?_ Rachel asked silently.

            _No. I’ve been searching the minds of those two lumbering drakes and it seems that the big one plans on leaving momentarily._ Hester replied back in her usual I’m-better-than-you-but-not-acknowledging-it way. It drove Rachel up the wall, but it was worth it since she was one of the best in the army.

Rachel glanced down into the clearing to watch the drake packing up. They seemed vulnerable enough. _That doesn’t matter! We can attack and kill them both! We can take them, easily!_

_Rachel, keep a level head. It’s advantageous for us to wait until we aren’t matched. They have angelic weapons and could, therefore, kill us. It’s better to hold off on an attack until we’re sure we can win._

_But they’re vulnerable! It’s the perfect time to strike. Besides, what will come of the big one?_

_They may be vulnerable, but they are also well-coordinated. They would have to be in order to sneak into our kingdom and kidnap out general._

_Yes, but you still haven’t answered my question. What about the big one? He could get away or bring reinforcements._

_Rachel don’t be stupid. We are in the middle of the Purgatory Woods. The nearest town is miles away and the drake doesn’t have wings. He won’t have gotten far, we will track him and kill him once we are finished here._

            Rachel exhaled as silently as possible in exasperation. _Alright, fine. Once the big one has left, we attack._

            _Precisely,_ Hester confirmed.

            Soon Rachel would confront Castiel. Raphael had told her the truth. Castiel was conspiring against them. He was consuming the souls of innocent dragons. Hester. She would have to tell Hester. It could wait until after she killed him though. Telling her beforehand would only make her hold Rachel back.

 

... 

 

            “Alright Sammy. You take care, ok?” Dean smiled at Sam.

            “Dean, you have to stop worrying. I’m going to be ok.”

            Sam stood on three legs and put his arm around Dean, patting him on the back. Dean followed in a similar suit. For one small moment, this was just another hunt. The angelic dragon staring over Sam’s shoulder wasn’t there. But, of course, Sam had a mission and so did Dean. The combined bounties would set them up for a while. It could help Charlie out, not that she needed it. All she had to do was hack into… something, and she could get all the money she needed.

            “We’ve done this a thousand times over, alright? I am a fully grown drakon who can handle himself in a tough fight.”

            “I know, I know. Just remember, I’ll meet you back at the bunker ok? Get there quick. I’m pretty sure the entirety of the angel kingdom is hunting us down considering we took their prince,” Dean smirked while he spoke, then he snorted, “they should have a fun time trying to find us anyways.”

            Sam gave him a look that said “be careful.”

            “See ya, bitch.”

            “See ya, jerk.”

 

...

 

            Castiel lay on the ground with his head resting on his claws. Thankfully, when Cas had lay down to eat his meal, he had flopped on dry dirt that could be brushed from his clothes rather than the pool of mud to his right. Sam had left about 5 minutes ago, and Dean seemed to think that was cause enough to cease to acknowledge his existence.

            He sensed Dean off somewhere to his left but didn’t actually bother to turn his head to look at him. Instead, he stared ahead watching a line of ants crawl across the ground. The ants reminded him of soldiers. They kept marching, just following whichever ant was in front of them, a never-ending cycle. If one ant was crushed, the others stepped around it. Just like his army. It saddened him to no extent.

            Just then, a honeybee flew down and landed on a flower that was growing near Castiel’s snout. He raised his head slowly as to not disturb the creature, but still kept his snout close enough to examine it. The bee disappeared into the flower for a moment and then reappeared, covered in pollen. It took off and landed right on top of Castiel’s nose. After, deciding that his snout wasn’t a flower, it jumped back into the air and started to fly away. Castiel stood quickly, but not violently and followed the bee, which was hovering to his left. It flew at a steady pace away from him, and he followed. Well, he followed it until his collar brought him to an abrupt stop. He made a gagging noise as he was jerked back.

            “You should really stop doing that or you’re gonna end up choking yourself or breaking your neck.”

            Castiel looked up from the ground to see Dean watching him. His not so carefully composed expression gave way to the barely contained laughter he was masking. Smoke came spiraling out of his nostrils in a thin stream in annoyance.

            “You know, I would just give in to stop the pain, but that would mean you win, and I’m not going to let that happen,” Castiel smiled through his growl.

            “You keep threatening me, yet I don’t see you actually doing anything to fulfil your empty promises. So, for now, I’ll just brush off your threats as ‘delusions of grandeur.’”

            “It impresses me how truly thick your skull must be. And here I thought drakes were supposed to be smart,” Castiel retorted.

            “You know, I could always call in to Crowley to alter the deal. He doesn’t need you alive, does he?” Dean asked while picking up an angel blade. He twirled it in his claws, seemly making a show of how easily he could handle it.

            “Crowley might not, but I’m sure Lucifer would want his favorite general back,” someone spoke from the trees above them.

            Both Castiel and Dean paused to look up, startled by a voice that was clearly female. It almost sounded familiar, to Castiel at least. He examined the shadows for any familiar outlines and found a pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by a piercing, ringing sound. Castiel knew that sound by heart, and yet every time he heard it, it never failed to give him a headache. Castiel started to back away, releasing the strain he was putting on the collar and chain.

            Two figures dropped from the trees, kicking up a cloud of dust. Castiel shielded his eyes from the sudden spray of debris. Once the dust cleared, two angelic dragons were standing before him. Castiel just about broke down with relief.

            “Rachel. Hester. You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Castiel smiled.

            Hester turned her head to look at him. She turned away from him with no acknowledgement. It gave Castiel a feeling of unease. She should be responding to him as her general. He turned to face Rachel who was giving him a look of pure rage and betrayal.

            “Rachel…? Hester…? What’s going on?” he backed away a little more.

            Hester let out a shriek, an angelic battle cry and lunged at Dean. He let out a little yelp of surprise and only managed to dodge out of the way by the breadth of a hair. He picked up his angel blade that he was playing with earlier and managed to turn in time to clash with Hester. Castiel would have kept watching the battle placed before him (he always thought that watching battles helped learn battle strategy) but Rachel spoke, drawing his attention.

            “Why did you do it Castiel?” she asked in a distressed tone.

            Castiel faced her and tilted his head in confusion. “Why did I do what?” he asked in confusion.

            “I thought that being a general and a PRINCE at that would be enough for you!” she screeched at him as her angel blade fell from her sleeve.

            Castiel glanced across the clearing to where Dean had discarded his bag of weapons next to the cart and his sleeping qilin. There was no way he would be able to reach them, not even if his chain was broken, there was an angry angel blocking the way. He looked back to Rachel who had gained ground and was beginning to rush at him.

            “I know the truth! I know about all the souls! Raphael told me everything!” she screamed and charged him, angel blade held in one of her front claws. Angels trained for battle since the moment they were old enough to hold a blade and not try and stab whomever they were currently mad at. Their weapons were the finest crafted in all the kingdoms, perfectly balanced, able to kill anything they speared, including their own. Castiel had never enjoyed being on the spearing end of one of the angelic weapons, but in war, he had faced down countless demons who planned on running him through. He had just never expected to be faced down by one of his trusted soldiers. The only good part about it, was that he knew their fighting styles by heart after training them and fighting alongside them, studying their every move.

            Castiel dodged to the side while simultaneously trying to disarm her. If he was going to fight her, might as well try leveling the playing field as much as possible. The angel blade in her hand went flying off somewhere into the dirt. Castiel hesitated and glanced to see if the blade was in range. His mistake. Rachel whipped around, her tail following suit, knocking him backwards.

            Castiel took a small moment to regain his footing. He looked up to find Rachel looking around for the angel blade. She turned to see he had gotten up. A look of surprise crossed her face for the briefest moment. Even without his angelic strength, he still knew how to battle and how to get back up. Castiel took a fighting stance, keeping his head low and his body at an angle, displaying his powerful tail. If his wings weren’t bound, he would have thrown them out to the sides, keeping them low and yet making himself look powerful, big, in control.

            Hester took a different fighting stance in response to his. She kept her head high, wings up and out on display, asserting her power and facing him head on, rather than Castiel’s tactfulness and carefully displayed show of dominance, showing her what he wanted her to see. That was Rachel’s problem, she had always been too bold in battle and when dealing with lower ranking dragons.

            They stood there, growling, challenging each other to move first. Rachel broke before Castiel. She started into a full gallop at him while Castiel backed up, preparing to meet her halfway. When she was only a few steps away, Castiel took his turn to rush forward with a roar, causing her to rear back onto her hind legs. Castiel followed suit, meeting her bites and slashes with well-aimed claws targeted at her face. They battled like lions fighting for control of a pride. Castiel was the superior fighter by far and was beating Rachel back after finding his balance with his lack of wings.

            He kept driving her back, until the tree and binding decided he had gone far enough. Castiel sensed it a moment before it happened and was able to mostly save it before he was jerked backwards by the collar. It was too late though. Rachel saw her opening and rushed forward, assisting the collar in knocking him backwards.

            Castiel went flying and landed in the dirt with a hard crash. He looked over to see Dean battling Hester and winning. He also saw the angel blade lying to his left. Rachel jumped on him right as he was about to pick up the blade. She crouched over him, pinning him to the forest floor. Then she started to beat him with her wing bones. Every time he tried to look up, his head was smashed back down by her powerful wings.

            “You had so much power already! Why did you do it? Why did you consume those souls? Why are you trying to kill Michael and Raphael? They’re your brothers!” She screeched as she beat him even more.

            She only paused when he spoke, “Rachel, I never consumed any innocent drake’s soul! They’re lying to you!” he felt around to his side while maintaining direct eye contact with her, “I would think you’d be the one to see through their lies!”

            He finally found it and grabbed a hold of it. As quickly as he could, he drew it in, under her and thrust the angel blade up, between her ribs. Her shriek of pain pierced the air as a bright light shone through her throat and eyes. It only stopped when Castiel withdrew the blade and she collapsed on top of him.

            Castiel lay there breathing heavily, too exhausted to try moving Rachel off of himself. Battling someone with angelic strength when he didn’t have any really did a number on his stamina. He listened for the sounds of Dean battling Hester. There was a lot of grunting, and roaring, and growling. Finally, there was a shriek, not unlike that of Rachel’s, except this time it was clearly Hester. A bright light shone from somewhere on Castiel’s left indicating her death.

            A few moments later, the weight of the other dragon’s body was lifted from his chest. He looked up to find Dean, attempting to roll her body into the center of the clearing. It was made so much more awkward by her wings sticking out at different angles, hindering him from easily moving her. Castiel watched him struggle for a moment before he decided to drag her body instead. Dean then turned around and repeated the process with Hester’s body, dragging her over next to Rachel in the clearing. He worked in silence, until he finally turned to face Castiel.

            He stopped dead in his tracks once he saw him watching. “Oh.”

            “Oh what?” Castiel asked while raising his head slowly.

            “I didn’t know you were alive.”

            “Well what else would I be? Rachel’s dead, isn’t she?”

            “Well I didn’t know. You could have killed each other. That is a possibility for every battle. Although, yeah, I guess I should’ve checked,” Dean conceded.

            Castiel just shook his head. He then proceeded to roll over onto his stomach to try and stand up. His legs almost collapsed but he strained his muscles enough to manage to stay standing. There were pinpricks of pain coming from his wings, face, and chest.

            Once he was on his legs, he got a better look at Dean. There were blood and bruises on the right side of his face and snout as well as some cuts along his arms and chest. It was a popular fighting tactic for angel dragons to use your blade in your dominant claw while you balance or slash at your enemy with your non-dominant claw, the patterns of the attack seemed to suggest Hester used that fighting style. Castiel’s battle on the other hand, was mostly without angel blades which left room for more slashing and clawing and leaving more cuts and bruises. Overall, Dean didn’t look like he took the worst Hester could have inflicted.

            “You don’t look great,” Castiel stated while watching Dean brush the dirt off of himself.

            “Yeah? Well I’d take a look in the mirror feather-ass,” Dean retorted while raising one of the arches above his eyes, “You look like you just challenged the entirety of the demon legions.”

            “Well it would have gone better if I had my angelic powers and strength,” he said while tapping on his wrist bindings.

            “Well unfortunately for you, I can’t let you out of those.”

            Castiel frowned. “You know, I could heal both of us up with just one touch if you would take off the bindings for a moment. I promise I won’t try and kill you until it’s evenly matched.”

            Dean was digging in his bag for something. “Charming, but I’m still not gonna let you out-” he paused to fish something out of the duffel bag- “besides, I’ve got everything we need right here.” He finished grabbing whatever it was he was grabbing and turned around to face Castiel. In his claws were a box and a bottle of some liquid, probably alcohol.

            Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “What’s the purpose of the box and the alcohol?”

            “The box is a first aid kit and the alcohol is to drink because this might be painful,” Dean said with a grin.

            Dean walked over to where Castiel was now sitting. He sat down on Castiel’s left side, opened the box, picked a few things out of it and started to attend to his own wounds. Dean hissed every now and then when he poured a small bit of the alcohol over large gashes.

            Castiel took the moment to examine his own wounds before it was his turn to patch up. He had a few scrapes and gashes along his arms and chest, not to any particular side. He could feel a couple of bruises and dried blood crusting on his snout where Rachel had beaten him with her wings. Then, he turned around. Castiel grimaced and hissed in pain at the sight before him. Multiple primary and secondary feathers were broken, missing, or sticking out at odd angles. He would have to pull out all the damaged ones which meant if he did escape, he wouldn’t be able to fly away. He was grounded and as much use as a drake.

            Once Dean had finished, he slid the box over to Castiel. He looked down in confusion at it.

            “What exactly am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, turning to Dean.

            “It’s a first aid kit. You heal yourself with it,” Dean said as he eyed Castiel.

            Castiel picked up something round and fluffy. He sniffed it then tried pressing it onto his scales, then pulling it away.

            “This isn’t doing anything,” Castiel said.

            “Stars, this is pathetic,” Dean snorted. He held out his claws for the box, “Just let me do this part, ok?”

            Castiel eyed him suspiciously.

            “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just trying to help,” Dean reasoned.

            Castiel gave in and slumped over, inviting Dean to crawl to his side with the box of first aid. Castiel looked ahead with grief in his eyes at the two bodies that Dean had positioned on the ground.

            “Don’t worry, we’ll build them a pyre,” Dean said from over his shoulder as he cleaned out a rather large gash on Castiel’s left arm.

            “I don’t see the purpose of it. They’ll burn up on their own.”

            “Wait, what?”

            Castiel sighed, “How much do you know about angelic culture and biology?”

            “I mean, I know your kind is supposed to guard the souls that were good enough in life while the hell dragons guard the bad ones-“

            “Not what I was asking for.”

            “Oh. Then not much, I guess…”

            Castiel examined the bodies from afar. “When angels die, our bodies burn up from the inside, causing us not to build pyres. The process usually takes about a day and within that span of time, family members and loved ones usually collect the feathers of the fallen to keep as reminders of the dragon they loved. Demons, when they kill our kind, usually cut off the wings of my soldiers to keep as trophies just as some of my soldiers keep the horns of demons they kill.”

            “Huh,” was Dean’s only response.

            “I just almost feel like I should be collecting their feathers before they burn up. They may have betrayed me, but they were some of the most loyal and brilliant officers I had,” Castiel said with sadness behind his voice.

            Dean let him grieve in silence until he was done attending to his wounds. Castiel looked down to see himself covered in bandages where Rachel’s claws had ripped through his clothes. His trench coat was still in good condition, minus the blood spatters on the front from Rachel. Thankfully, he only had one tear in the fabric where the gash on his left arm was. He looked back to see his wings in their state.

            “I’m going to have to remove the damaged ones if I ever want to fly again,” Castiel sighed. He reached around himself in an awkward way to reach his wings which he would normally bring forward. Once he had gotten a grip of a feather, he tugged and his came away with little blood.

            “Want me to do that?” Dean asked, eyeing his wings, “You look pretty uncomfortable, plus you’re pulling the feathers out in the wrong direction.”

            Castiel sighed and then nodded silently. Dean crawled forward to his wings. He began to run his claws through them, pulling out a damaged feather every time he snagged on one. It actually felt quite good to Castiel. It had been a long time since someone had groomed his wings other than himself. Slowly, Castiel sank to the ground and drifted off into the peacefulness of sleep, relaxing at the touch of claws on his wings.


End file.
